Doom Mod Oneshots
by Enriks-Da-Writer
Summary: A series of oneshots I'll write occasionally. Some filthy, some clean, and the rest in between. So take a seat and read my depraved writings. (I do not on the cover image. H-Doom belongs to Mike12, Doom belongs to ID Software, Doom Mods belong to their respective owners.)
1. 01: Doom Canon X H-DOOM (01)

**_DOOM Mod Oneshots_**

**AN:** Happy Late Valentine's Day you sexy Mother-Lovers (I have been watching too many Brandon Herrera videos). This is a oneshot that I have just thought up after a long day of school as well as playing a LOT of H-Doom. Yes, you read that right. I played a lot of H-Doom for this to happen. So, you guys at least know what will be in store here. That said: I am not the best at writing erotic literature. Dumb smut, I am an absolute novice at and will probably come off as absolute cringe to some. Decent smut and higher, it will be eons before I get to that!

To quote Ruby Rose from RWBY Chibi: _"This is filth! FIIIIIILLLTTHH!"_

I got inspired by _"A Knight and His Maidens"_ written by AzureMegaCyber on FanFiction before it got sadly taken down by some asshat who blew some dumb whistle. Luckily, the story itself is found on AO3 which is a smart move on Azure's part. This story will not be purely smut, some will focus more on actual plot than the 'plot' you guys want to see.

Now as some may have already guessed from the title, this will be a series of oneshots I will occasionally make, and these will all center on Doom Mods in one way or another. These won't be just rooted to H-Doom, other Doom Mods will get their time to shine in due time such as Demonsteele, High Noon Drifter, the Trailblazer, the Guncaster, La Tailor Girl, and many more. I might even do a Doot Revenant oneshot at some point for shits and giggles (also for April Fools, if I can write that on time).

Without further ado, here is the debut chapter of this anthology!

* * *

**[Oneshot 01: Conquered Baroness and Submissive Knight]**

Date Started: 02-17-2020

Date Finished: 02-24-2020

Date Edited: 12-22-2020

* * *

Backstory: _During his endless crusade against the Hell's Eternal Legions, the Slayer had found himself in the Circle of Lust. Undeterred by the seductive and intimate ploys Hell threw to sway him from his path the Slayer pushed on through the barriers. His weapons had been taken from him, forcing him to fighting with his bare hands and feet. Within hours, hand-to-hand got old for him after knocking down another horde of demons. So, he decided to play by their rules and twist them in ways that shall aid in his Crusade. Using the sword bestowed upon him from birth, he began to conquer the Circle of Lust. The wretches threw themselves at him with reckless abandon, but he conquered them all the same. Even their venerated champions and mistresses fell to his mighty sword._

_The one that stood out to him was a lone Hell Baroness. She was stronger than most Barons of the other Circles and stronger than the Baronesses of this Circle. She was much like him in terms of strength and prowess, leading to them dueling for dominance over the other. He and she could not recall how long exactly their duel had taken. It could have been seconds, perhaps minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or even years before one had surrendered to the other._

_His sword would stab into her repeatedly in different places, keeping the Baroness on the defensive. She would use her hands and endowments to parry his sword, which would flip the tide of battle. Both would allow their essences to flow over one another and bathe them before striking each other even harder than before. Occasionally, their mouths would contribute to their duel, striking many weak spots with no mercy. Their bodies gave it their all throughout their duel. The Slayer and the Baroness wanted to conquer the other, that much was certain. Their glorious duel had garnered a massive audience. Half were previous conquests he had committed, and the rest were those that would follow. At the climax of their duel, the Baroness released a shrill roar of submission, one that would echo throughout the Circle, as she became another conquest to the Slayer._

_He marked it with a sharp bite into her neck, signaling that she was a worthy adversary, all while he continued to dominate her in front of thousands of past conquests and future conquests._

_Impressed with her vigor and her resilience, the Slayer had made her into his Conquestum Primus, the two often dueling whenever the Slayer would temporarily put his Crusade on hold. The days became blurs to them every single time they dueled. Other conquests would join in and would attempt to make the Slayer submit first. They may be more specialized in certain areas or two, but they fell to him and left it to the Baroness to pick up where they left off. He would fill her and the other conquests with his seed, bloating their stomachs and wombs for others to see. Many of his conquests would submit after a single duel with him. Only a handful, including the Baroness herself, could last longer with him. The closest to nearly surpass her place was a veteran Arch Witch but the Baroness had shown the Witch her place soon enough. Another had been her personal Hell Knight, although the lesser noble had been shown her place as well._

_Now that Hell was conquered once more and with the **Typos Paganos** sealed once again, the Slayer could rest. The Baroness would comfort him, leading to many nights of dueling between the two. One night, she revealed to him a gift. She carried within her a child. It was **HIS** child, she told him. The two would raise the child together._

_That had been years ago, now she has a family to call her own. One day, she is visited by her youngest daughter who came to her with string of questions._

* * *

[The Manse]

He was with her again, she could sense through their intimate bond. Specifically, she could sense that he was with her personal Hell Knight, Aosoth. They would meet every end of the week to spar, comparing each other's powers and coming up with ways to increase them. There was no denying the woman's power, being able to keep up with her Mate or herself in a single duel. Even from here, on their manse's topmost and luxurious balcony far away from the forest battlegrounds, she could feel the explosive force behind each blow the two would land on one another. She released a low growl when she felt her glass shake. Imbeciles, this was quality blood wine! It costs more than what all of them could make in a month! Still, the drink was secure, and she could still savor the taste of it so she could forgive her Mate and his partner for the small discomfort. It was divine on her succulent lips, euphoria on her tongue's taste buds, and nirvana in her throat's inner walls.

She sighed in bliss. Life was good. The woman lounging on her chair was no human woman. Rather, she was a demon. Specifically, a Hell Baroness, one of the higher leveled nobles found throughout the infernal realm.

Her face was very much female, angled at the right places and giving off a regal air around it, letting those that gaze upon it know that she was royalty, and she is to be treated as such. Her eyes were reptilian in appearance and colored gold, enchanting those that gaze into them. Her short yet magnificent hair was also golden, styled elegantly into a bun and having two bangs to frame her heart-shaped face. Two pitch black horns broke through her magnificent locks and were curling to the front much like a bull's own horns would be shaped.

If she was standing upright, she'd measure at around eight feet or 2.44 meters tall and rocked a muscular body as befitting of someone of her stature. Her skin was hardened from centuries of battle and was colored light red, bordering on pink at certain light conditions and angles. The parts that made her a clear female member of her race were the addition of large breasts, wide hips, and shapely rear that gave her muscular body a more hourglass shape. Her abdominal region that once took the form of a well-defined eight-pack was now a smooth stomach. Her legs were double-jointed, which gave her the height advantage over her Mate albeit the advantage was small (had she sported his kind of legs, she was certain he'd tower over her), covered in soft, brown fur and ending in black hooves, one hoof for each leg.

Her attire for the day consisted of a dull gray sleeved shirt her Mate had made for her. It was shoddy by her standards, but her Mate had gone through the trouble to grace her with a gift, so she had accepted it without much fuss. The plus sides of the gift were that it hugged her in all the right places and had an open cut for her cleavage to be shown. She wore light blue jean shorts, covering her upper legs and leaving the rest exposed, letting the cool morning air flow through her fur.

She had many accessories, particularly in the area around and above the neck, with a notable one being the rather extravagant brooch around her neck, gold in color and decorated with different kinds of gemstones native and alien to Hell. It acted like a choker, wrapped around her neck like the non-metal accessory in question nicely. Her ears were decorated with equally golden drop earrings that were shaped like demon strength runes.

This was Bathory Lliulmiol Ozasark Dommindraa, Conquestum Primus of the Doom Slayer, William Blazkowicz or Flynn Taggert as he would refer to himself in (relatively) recent times, and she was content with her life. She had become less active in the many gladiator arenas the realms connected to Hell have to offer and has since then decided to raise her young. It was only fitting that her offspring were to become as powerful and influential as herself, after all.

Just then the door leading to the top room had opened, followed by a meek voice that brought her out of her thoughts. "M-Mama?" the child called out, a stutter in her voice.

Bathory sighed at this. Glancing from her high-class lounge chair, she addressed her youngest.

"What is it, child?" she asked in a firm tone, the growl in her voice making her offspring hide further behind the doorway. "Can't you see that I am busy? You know better than your siblings, child, to disturb Mother whenever she is busy," the child shuddered from what she could see of her head from the doorway. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, the sound reaching the child's ears.

"Reveal yourself, child, and tell me what you want from Mother." Slowly, the child emerged from the doorway and entered the room. Out of all her offspring, she took after her father most when it came to appearances. Very little could reveal her other half of her heritage. Her skin was pale, reminding both her mother and her father of snow. Her hair was short, framing her human face well and colored primarily of her father's dull brown although the tips were of golden coloration much like her mother's own golden hair. She was dressed more conservatively than her siblings, a plain green dress similar in color to her father's armor. It was her eyes that clued people in as to the other side of her heritage; they were gold in color and reptilian in nature much like her mother's. Two small stubs jutted from her hair, unnoticeable at first but when one gets a good look, they can see black stubs that shall grow into horns in time.

She was smaller than her siblings who tower over her. They couldn't reach up to their mother's chest, but they towered over her and they used that as a means to taunt her and intimidate her into following their bidding.

Bathory was more than sure that her showcase of weakness came from her father. It was certainly not from her!

The child fidgeted in her place, struggling to find her voice. Growling, Bathory muttered a quick spell and the girl suddenly flew forward from an unseen force. The girl stopped just three feet away from her mother, who got off her chair and fully turned to her. Her mother's hand glowed with a dark green fire wrapping around it, yet it showed no signs of severe burns.

"Speak quickly, child, or I shall make your tongue speak for you in agony," her golden eyes flared with the infernal powers innate to her and her kind. Even while wearing a gray shirt and form fitting jean shorts, Bathory still made for an imposing figure especially to her own offspring. The fear of pain evident across her face, the child blurted out her words.

"Why does Papa keep seeing other women?!" she yelped out to her mother, whose eyes lost the infernal flare but remained as terrifying as ever. The glow in her hand dulled before escaping back inside her body, leaving a dully glowing hand as a result. Bathory looked down on her child before lowering herself to one knee to place a hand on her child's shoulder. The warmth of Mother's hand calmed her down.

"Your Father is someone that cares for those that are worthy to be his companions and mates, Child. They are strong, and strength is something to be respected in this family. They too sire his children, your half-siblings, making them your half-mothers and you their half-child." She calmly explained to her.

"He cares for them very much, Child," curse her; she wasn't this pathetic when it came to talking with to her other offspring. Why was it so different when it came to this child?

"Does Papa care for me, too?" the Child asked meekly.

"Of course, your Father cares for you, Child." The Child seems placated for now until Bathory looked closer.

"Now what is it that you truly wish to ask of me, child?" the Daughter flinched at Mother's words. It was bound to happen. None could hide what goes on in their house without Mother learning of it. Those that attempted to lie to her were subjected to discipline or, worse, Father's own brand of discipline.

The Daughter attempted to wiggle her way out of Mother's unseen grip, but it tightened its hold on her form.

"D-does Papa l-love us at all?" That question stopped the Baroness in her tracks, releasing her supernatural grip on her child, letting her drop free onto the floor. Love, a concept most foreign to Bathory and her kin and was often ignored and outright scorned by the general populace within the Nine Circles. Lust was more physical and easier to grasp than something unseen. Does the Slayer lust after her? Yes, given how he tends to her needs and her in kind on a near daily basis. Does he care for her? That was a given as he would ensure that she was always in her peak condition as befitting of a Baroness and the Conquestum Primus of the Slayer.

Love on the other hand? Such a notion was foolish and naïve, Bathory had been told by her own Father and Mother, and she shall pass down that sentiment to her Offspring. Yet the more she pondered on her daughter's words, the more Bathory began to question her Patriarch and Matriarch.

Unlike other Conquerors, the Slayer wouldn't treat his companions and mates like playthings. Rather, he would converse with them, strengthening their ties to him in whatever way he can. That much was certain with her and her Offspring. With his young, he would treat them as though they were nearly equal to him. With her, he would focus more on pleasuring and exciting her rather than use her as a mere comfort tool.

One side of her denied it, saying that the Slayer was a Conqueror above Conquerors and would need his conquests to be of a similarly high standard. The other side was unsure, a feeling foreign to her blossoming within her bosom. For the longest time, Bathory was unsure on how to answer her child's question. When she found her voice, she spoke in a low tone.

"I know that he cares for you more than your siblings. Perhaps that is a sign of his… love… for you and for all of us," the Mother told her Daughter. The Daughter seemed to smile at this. For a moment, Bathory thought it was over, and then her daughter asked another question that stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Do you love him back, Mama?" Bathory's golden eyes widened in shock at the question her child had just asked of her. Many thoughts ran through the Baroness's head. She thought of how she treated the Slayer during their duels. No, she wouldn't call those duels at all. They were mating rituals, sex for the more vulgar of people. Activities of vigor and lust that made her do and say things no sane Baroness would every do and/or say. Whenever she and the Slayer gave in to their desires, they would go wild like true animals in heat. The first many times she and the Slayer would mate, she and he had done so purely out of carnal desires. But recently, the Slayer had taken it upon himself to caress her entire body as they mated. And she always appreciated it.

She can call it many things, but love was a strange label for it.

Breaking out of her thoughts, she spoke up to her child. "Leave me, child. I need time to think."

"But Mama-"

"Rose!" Rarely would Bathory ever raise her voice to this child. Whenever she did, it was often when her child, Rose, would step out of line. Her daughter backed away in fright, shivering at the tone she had used.

"Leave me, for I must think on this." Standing to her full height, Bathory left no room to argue as she went to another chair, this one more luxurious and more like a throne with how it looked. Rose had no other choice but to obey, quickly running through the door she had come through. Once the Baroness was sure her child was away, she used her magic to seal the door shut and leaned into her personal throne.

She sifted through her memories until she had found the one that she sought. It was one memory that could give her answers to her daughter's question.

* * *

[Just a month after Rose was born Rose's Room]

She was fragile, Bathory noted as the small newborn snuggly in her bundle of cloth squirmed and adjusted her sleeping position. The child had been named Rose, Flynn saying that he named his pet rabbit (whatever that creature was, it was probably a ferocious beast only he could tame) after a similar form of flower. Sentimental but names do hold power in many fields.

She held the child close to her bosom where her fertile breasts served their purpose. The child suckled onto one of them, making the Baroness stifle a moan from escaping her lips. Curse her body; she should not be showing weakness, even towards her own child and her most recent one at that! Looking to the other side of the large room, she could see her Mate, Flynn Taggert, working on the little structure for this equally little gremlin. He called it a 'crib'; she preferred to call it a 'wooden prison'. The man was shorter than her, only at around seven feet and six inches or 2.286 meters in height, yet he always seemed larger than her. Perhaps it was the sheer millennia of life he had over her few centuries or perhaps it was because he had far more experience in many styles of combat that enable him to best her and so many of her kind. He was out of his Praetorian Suit for now and instead was dressed like a peasant human servant. A plain white tunic and blue pants, these two articles of clothing framing his body and showing off his dominating physique, such an attire wouldn't be what many would think when they thought of the Slayer.

No matter what he wore, he made it look highly appetizing on the eyes. She knew she enjoyed the view, especially the way it highlighted his ass and, whenever he faced her, his crotch hiding away the sword that always was on his person.

"Babe?" his voice brought her out of her thoughts, using that accursed pet name he had given her after their fourth flesh duel. In the very recesses of her subconscious, a sliver of her welcomed the cute name he had bestowed upon her. Blinking, she saw that her Mate was finished with the wooden prison and was giving her a knowing smirk.

"Oh!" she composed herself, wiping away some drool from her lips. "I see that you are finished with the parasite's prison," he raised an eyebrow at her. She couldn't blame him; males never truly understood the agony that was sharing her body with a parasite that grew within her womb. The parasite would syphon her of her energy every single second that she spent carrying the vile things. They made her sloppy, unable to perform even the most mundane of tasks done by servants. They even influenced her mind to act poorly, leaving her to lash out and appear erratic and irrational. It made her less desirable, unsightly, and, she dreaded this the most, unworthy to be called and known as the Slayer's Conquestum Primus.

Every time she brought up these issues with her Mate, the Slayer would brush off her worries with a smile and told her that she was being emotional. Impossible! She had been raised by her Patriarch and Matriarch to never let her emotions dictate her every action and decision. That was how she responded each time and he dared to laugh at her. The only reason she hadn't struck him down for the slight against her honor was the fact that he was her Mate and he held dominance over her.

Yes, that was it and no other reason!

Her Mate responded to her words. "You always call our kids that," he said, not offended and more intrigued. He wouldn't understand. He was human, after all. A human that somehow had achieved what she, her Patriarch and Matriarch, and her kin throughout the Nine Circles had long thought impossible: seal the **_Typos Paganos_** from the realm and ushering forth a new era.

"Because it is true!" she snapped at him, the child suckling on her breasts undisturbed. "These cretins grow within you and syphon your energy until you are left weak and vulnerable!" As she predicted, he chuckled and said the words she anticipated.

"Babe, you're overreacting."

"I am NOT overreacting. Need I remind that I am far beyond such things," she lightly lectured him, pointing a clawed finger at him while using her other arm to keep the baby stable to allow her to continue sucking her lactating nipple. The terrifying image she had wanted to project was rendered moot by the incessant noises the little parasite made as it sucked her breast dry.

"Like you've said the last three times we took care of a kid around a month or so after you gave birth to them," he shot back, reminding her of previous, eerily similar events.

"Those were merely illusions of your eyes and ears, Slayer," she said, referring to him by his title her people had given him in scorn. Flynn shook his head before testing the doors of the wooden prison. The side gates functioned as they should: rising and lowering only if the buttons were triggered at the same time. Lifting it, he tested the weight and found it suitable. Lowering it and adjusting its position within the room, the Slayer then took a step back to admire what he had made.

"Sometimes I forget that I can make things rather than destroy things," he said, mostly to himself she noted from his lowered tone. Bathory walked up to him beside the wooden prison, setting the child down onto the bed within it and watching as the bundle of cloth comforted the offspring after it had been removed from sucking her nipple. The child's ministrations on her breasts made her core heat up, making the Baroness rub her inner thighs together to suppress it.

Flynn saw it through the corner of his eye. "Really? A child sucking your tit made you horny?" Bathory had the decency to blush at his words.

"S-Shut it, you! My body just felt it was time to be irritated, that's all!"

"Sure," he drew the word out slowly, "and I'm well-loved by your kind." What was he talking about? Of course, he was respected and feared by the populace of Hell. Such a reputation was something that shall forever echo throughout the scrolls of history. The Slayer wrapped one arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him.

"Why don't we rub that itch of yours, then?" seeing no other reason or excuse to turn down his offer, Bathory nodded in agreement to her Mate's words.

After making sure that Rose was asleep, the two made their way to the ground floor. Flynn never really liked living in large places such as the manse once owned by Bathory's Patriarch and Matriarch or the castle that he now owns by right of sealing the previous owner. He had told her that he preferred to be simple and would settle for living in a small wooden cabin near the woods. Bathory wouldn't have it, saying that one such as him and his reputation needed to showcase it for all to see and what better way to show it than use the very fortress that housed the **_Typos Paganos_**? He lightly shook his head at that memory as they walked down the rather spacious flight of stairs leading to the rather spacious ground floor leading up to the rather large metal doors.

Bathory's personal Hell Knight, Aosoth, bowed in respect as they approached. She was tall as her Mate although she was less muscular than him. Her skin was of a light brown coloration, not like Bathory's own pinkish red skin. Her hair was long, contrasting Bathory's own short hair, reaching down to her shapely hips and colored a deep purple unlike Bathory's own golden locks and mane. Her face was fair much like most female Knights, amber, reptilian eyes that glowed with the same powers that flow through Bathory's body enhancing that look and giving her an exotic edge over other females especially their hated foes the Angels. Her own horns were smaller than Bathory's and equal in color. Her legs were furry much like Bathory's and double jointed which gave her more articulation in said limbs and allowed for greater force to be applied to them, colored lighter than the Baroness's with her legs ending in clawed feet rather than one large hoof per leg like the Baroness's.

Her demonic chitin armor was colored like her skin, a sharp contrast to the light gray most Knights sported, covering her vital organs and framing her body just right.

Aosoth spoke in religious reverence, "Greetings, Mistress Bathory and Master Flynn. Are you headed out once more?" Flynn nodded and answered verbally.

"Yep, Bathory's got the itch again," Bathory shot her Mate a heated glare for revealing the nature of their departure. Turning her sight to the Knight, the Baroness noticed that she was blushing; no doubt many unsavory thoughts and desires involving her Mate were running through the lesser noble's head.

"I-I see," the Knight's own legs rubbed one another slightly but repeatedly, making the Baroness narrow her eyes and the Slayer acknowledge it with a raised brow.

"Perhaps you want to join us?" the Knight seemed surprised at what he offered.

"I-I could?!" Bathory was quick to answer Aosoth.

"Know your place, Aosoth dear. While my Mate is generous, I am not. We will require some payment from you at a later juncture." Aosoth lowered her head at this, nodding lightly.

"Then," her Mate spoke up, opening the door with one hand, head turned to look at both demons, "shall we get going?"

[Springs near the Manse]

They arrived to what had become their personal private springs but this time they were accompanied by an extra. The Slayer led the Knight and the Baroness to the sandbar where they will commence with the duel of flesh.

The Baroness was eager to get started and the Knight was nervous, a sharp contrast from how Aosoth was when in battle. Her Mate turned to face them both.

"So," he started, "who's going first?" The Baroness nearly stepped forth when she had noticed the Knight was fidgeting in her place. The Knight spoke up after finding her voice.

"I w-would like to be the first to duel with you, Master," the Knight's cheeks darkened with each word. Bathory clicked her tongue quietly in response. Perhaps she should let her servant indulge in her desires to be dominated by the Slayer. She gave the Knight's ass a loud smack, eliciting a yelp of surprise (and arousal, she noted with amusement) from the lesser noble and making her jump a good distance in the air, the direction of her jump just so happened to make her land in the Slayer's arms.

Aosoth's blushed deepened even further once she realized where she had landed.

"Alright, let's take it slow for now," Flynn was rather accepting of this, Bathory noted. Aosoth nodded, the Knight leaning in for her to kiss Flynn, the notorious human figure within Hell's history returning the favor. Bathory could smell the arousal coming from her subordinate, no doubt getting off from the fact that she was kissing her boss's mate right in front of said boss. Her arms snaked up Flynn's torso before wrapping themselves loosely around his neck. In a few seconds, their tongues started to fight for dominance.

Even before it was over, Bathory knew her Mate had won but she had to give her subordinate some credit, she fought hard in the battle of tongues. Aosoth tried a little too hard, focusing on using her tongue alone, she had neglected to set up her defenses which her Mate had capitalized upon and had punished her foolish subordinate for it. Flynn's hands caressed her hips and went lower to grope her ass. The stimulations made Aosoth grind her crotch against Flynn's in arousal.

All the while, Bathory pleasured herself, fondling her breasts and rubbing a claw or two against her sopping womanhood through her clothes.

The two separated for air soon enough, a trail of saliva connecting their lips together. Aosoth's eyes were broadcasting her pleasure and her lust, cheeks dark in color and her breathing ragged. Her arms went to grab the hem of his shirt and began to lift them up, revealing his chiseled body for the two females to ogle. Flynn did not say anything and instead returned the favor by taking off Aosoth's armor pieces one by one.

Soon, the Knight was bare, her body fully revealed to her superiors. In a sharp contrast to her sultry demeanor on the battlefield, Aosoth covered her nipples and her dripping womanhood with her arms in embarrassment.

"I-Is this a-a pleasing sight, M-Master Flynn?" she asked, looking away with an intense blush.

"Yes," he answered, his hands undoing the buckle of his belt to free his pants and the beast they caged within. Bathory loved this part of the mating process. The Baroness grinned and gave a guttural growl of approval at the sight before her while her subordinate Knight whimpered.

It was an impressive size for any human to possess. It still impresses the Baroness that her Mate was able to hide this massive weapon in his pants daily. It was 16 inches or 40.64 centimeters in length and 4 inches or 10.16 centimeters in diameter. The testicles attached to the massive tool were just as impressive. Each one can be barely held with one of her hands and her Mate's ability to somehow hide them was rather impressive. Veins covered the skin of the appendage and the skin was dark showing its many years of use. The equally dark head was like a mushroom, large enough to fill a woman up on entry and can stretch her out with just the right amount of movement.

It was still flaccid, hanging out in the open and letting the cold air wrap around it.

"Well," Bathory spoke to her subordinate, a smile on her lips that spoke of mischief towards the poor Knight, "aren't you going to polish your Master's sword?" Her subordinate's blush got even more intense to the point her entire face was just darkened in color. Seeing that the Knight wasn't moving, the Baroness decided to guide the lesser noble and younger demoness, gently making her kneel down to level her face with the man's impressive length.

Both demonesses gazed upon the shaft; Bathory was starting to drool while Aosoth could only watch with increasingly wide eyes. Taking her subordinate's hands, Bathory guided them to Flynn's penis. Releasing them, Bathory took a few steps back to watch Aosoth begin.

The Knight slowly began to move her hands up and down the shaft. The Slayer hummed in response, running a hand through her magnificent purple hair. From that encouragement, the Knight began to put more effort into her actions. She experimented at some part, one hand going slow and the other going fast.

Soon enough her work paid off and the dick _grew_. To her surprise and arousal, the Slayer's cock grew a few inches in both length and diameter. It now was standing firm and erect, like a tank cannon aimed at a target, the target of this cannon just so happened to be Aosoth's face. The Knight breathed out, her mouth slightly ajar and some drool escaping her lips. Without waiting for any outside influence for permission to continue, the Knight began to polish the Slayer's sword.

By the Circles, it was larger than she thought. She had just started, and the head could barely fit in her lips. She ran her tongue around it, tasting the head and savoring it. Still, she couldn't back down now. Aosoth slowly took in more of the dick until a good six inches were in her throat. The rest remained outside, her hands jerking them off to compensate. She felt the appendage react to her ministrations.

"Isn't this cute?" Bathory spoke from her spot, still pleasuring herself at the sight before her. "My Mate's sword is too much for the proud Knight?" she gave a haughty chuckle. In anger at her superior's words and goaded by them, Aosoth began to take in more of Flynn's dick with an entire foot's length now in her throat.

The Knight began to deep-throat the Slayer, using her tongue to lubricate the thick appendage and brushing her sharp teeth against the surprisingly hard skin. She ran her hands across the rest of the length that hadn't fit in her mouth, occasionally fondling one of the Slayer's testicles. She hummed as she continued to suck on his dick; the vibrations of her sounds making the dick in her mouth stiffen slightly. She was pleased that her Master acknowledged her efforts to please him, making her continue with more vigor.

She then felt one hand grasping and stroking one of her horns. The Knight stiffened, a moan coming from her throat and vibrating against the dick in her mouth. She felt her cunt drip more from the action the Slayer had done. In response, she stroked and sucked harder, doing her damn best to bring her Master to an orgasm.

The Knight felt both of her horns being grabbed and she felt the Slayer move himself even deeper into her throat. She could barely breathe at this point, the meat filling so much space and barely letting any air through. Her vision blurred and she could barely make out what was in front of her.

The Knight loved this sensation, especially when she was doing it with the object of her desires. She submitted, her pupils taking the form of hearts as the Slayer began to use her like a fleshlight.

The Slayer began to pump in and out of the Knight's throat, the female demon's throat's walls making for a delightful experience. It felt so warm and inviting to him, the wetness around it lubing his cock more.

With some effort, he flipped the Knight until she was oriented upside-down making her pussy level with his face. The Knight's legs limply hanged on the sides of his head, unmoving much like a ragdoll's legs. He began to lick and tease her swollen clit, occasionally biting into it and seeing how the Knight reacts. He felt her throat tighten. He began to thrust upwards even more, his balls slapping into the Knight's face with each thrust.

The upright 69 was witnessed heavily by the Baroness, taking in every moment and detail of it. She stuck a claw or two inside her snatch at this point, pumping her fingers in and out at increasingly rapid paces.

Back to the Slayer and the Knight, the former continued to thrust in and out of the latter while licking at the outside areas of her pussy. The Knight, whether subconsciously or consciously, weakly moved her crotch closer, as if to beg the Slayer to shove his tongue deep within its walls. He complied and inserted his tongue into her snatch and began to lick around the fleshy walls. She twitched in response, juices leaking from her pussy and trailing down her body, some were lapped up by his tongue. The Slayer sent his tongue as deep as he could and used his teeth to stimulate the outer clit further.

The Knight's legs wrapped around the Slayer's head, driving him into her pussy, and he met that with a rather strong thrust, fully sheathing himself inside her throat for the first time in this duel of flesh.

The Knight moaned around the Slayer's cock, feeling an imminent orgasm. She felt the dick in her throat twitch even more, making her use her tongue as best as she could in her current position.

After a few more minutes, they climaxed as one. The Slayer gave one final thrust, and the Knight wrapped her legs around his head even tighter, the two letting their essences out. The Slayer's cock fired off like a high-powered firehose, sending a torrent of semen through the Knight's throat and towards her stomach. The Knight's pussy erupted, showering the two of them in her cum and sending a good amount into the Slayer's mouth who gladly accepted the gift.

After coming down from their high, the Slayer releases the Knight and gently sets her down on her back. Getting a good look, the Slayer could see that he had bloated the Knight's stomach a fair bit. Her face was covered in his cum, giving it a somewhat glossy sheen as a result.

The Knight groaned as she was spent, unable to move or say anything.

"My, my," his Mate's voice reached his ears, turning his head to see the Baroness sashaying her way to him. The way her hips moved with each step and the way her barely contained breasts bounced made the Slayer a little excited on what was to come next. He approached her and took her within his arms. She grinned as the two engaged in a heated lip-lock. The Baroness did not let her Mate do all the work, using one hand to stroke the still hard and sensitive cock of her Mate and the other to caress other parts of his body. He rose to her challenge soon enough, quickly caressing and groping her breasts and her ass as well as using his tongue to fight back against her tongue.

The Slayer went for her jean shorts, pulling them down and revealing her dripping womanhood. With her core exposed, he struck with one hand, his thumb rubbing her clit and his fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy. She groaned but did not give in. The two separated for air, the two gazing into one another's eyes. The Slayer gave the Baroness a grin, confusing her for a moment. Then he dipped his head lower and she knew immediately what came next.

He bit into her neck, right onto the spot where he had marked her as his Conquestum Primus, making her scream in pain and pleasure. She bared her fangs at her Mate who simply gave her a toothy smile in response before sucking on that same spot, his tongue going over the recently bitten place. She bit her lip, not wanting to moan at her Mate's ministrations. The Slayer went to the front area of her neck, trailing his tongue across it. All the while, his hands never ceased their own ministrations. He stopped licking and looked directly at her.

"Ready?" She nodded in response.

"As I should, being your Conquestum Primus, after all." The Slayer smiled at this and leaned in to kiss the Baroness. She met his approach with equal vigor. All the while, the Slayer began to remove her top. She lifted her arms and separated from him enough for the article of clothing to be fully removed and discarded, followed by her shorts.

The Baroness sharply gasped as she felt her Mate thrust into her once more after so long. His muscular arms caged her in as the Slayer continued to rut her relentlessly. Her shapely rear, larger than before due to birthing Rose, rippled with each movement his strong hands made as they fondled with her cheeks. His strength allowed him to lift her completely off the ground, the gravity making each thrust reach deeper into her than what she normally felt. She lets out a guttural moan as she felt the Slayer sink his teeth once more into her neck. It drew blood, just how she preferred it. He removed his mouth from her neck before lifting her higher to latch his mouth to one of her hardened and sensitive nipples. He released her from his grip and thrusts upwards, meeting her falling cunt with vicious force. She roared out in pleasure as she arched her back, sending the nipple in the Slayer's mouth even deeper into his maw where his teeth grinded against it and the tongue lubricated it further, and threw her head back.

The Slayer's grip returned, one hand firmly grasping her rear and kneading it like dough and the other lifting one of her legs up. The Baroness's tongue lolled out of her drooling mouth as the Slayer's thrusts became faster and harder all while sucking on her nipple. As she had recently given birth, she was still lactating, sending ropes of milk down the Slayer's mouth. When she had first begun to lactate when she was with their first child many years ago, the Slayer had told her he loved the taste of her milk.

It swelled her pride knowing that she was a worthy conquest and Mate to the Slayer if such a minor aspect such as that made him think highly of her.

The Slayer switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the other, making the Baroness moan in delight. His thrusts did not slow down, maintaining their current jackhammering speed into her tight vagina. Its thick girth rubbed her sensitive spots every time he stabbed his cock into her. She moved one of her arms to tweak with one of the Slayer's own nipples. This seemed to make him go even harder and faster on her. She cooed at this before wrapping both legs around her Mate, driving him deeper into her core. She felt faint twitching from his thick and lengthy shaft, cluing her in as to how long she has left before he released his massive batch of seed deep into her womb.

One hand came to fondle her unattended breast, kneading it much like it had done to her rear just moments ago. It would alternate between her occupied and unattended breasts every few seconds, stimulating her further.

Releasing her nipple from his jaws, the Slayer gave her a toothy smile before leaning in to kiss her deeply. The Baroness moaned into the lip-lock as their tongues fought to assert dominance over the other. The Slayer's hands weren't idle throughout this, roaming over her body to stimulate her sensitive spots. Her inner thighs, her upper and lower back, her massive orbs that were her milking tits, her equally massive ass, her motherly, child-bearing hips, her flat stomach, and her exposed clitoris were among the few spots to be fondled and stimulated by the Slayer's callused fingers.

Her own hands grabbed the back of the Slayer's head, her clawed, pinkish red fingers sinking into his dark brown hair, but she was careful enough not to draw blood. She drove his head deeper into hers as if she wanted them to become one, allowing her to further thrust her tongue in his mouth and him to do the same to her mouth. The twitching of his cock became more apparent, rattling her ever-tightening insides and bringing her closer to release.

The need for air became too strong after a few minutes of deeply kissing, the two separating to breathe in some much-needed air. The Baroness clawed at the Slayer's back, racking her claws across his broad backside. It didn't discomfort him in the slightest, instead it encouraged him to thrust more and stimulate her further. Her inner walls clamped down on his length like a fleshy vice, her body eager to milk out as much seed as possible.

The Slayer dipped his head low to her fertile breasts once more and, in a move that still surprises her no matter how many times she has experienced it firsthand, captured both nipples into his mouth. His two hands groped and kneaded her breasts as he sucked on her still-lactating nipples, stimulating her in that area further and milking her as much as he can.

Her wetness made the thrusting even faster. His crotch slammed into hers even harder and his balls smacked her ass with each thrust.

"F… fu… shit!" The Baroness grunted as each new thrust sent her closer to the edge, wrapping her legs tighter around the Slayer's waist. "S… S-Slayer… I'm s-so… c-close!" He didn't respond verbally, mouth occupied with her breasts. The Baroness grinded her hips to bring about the Slayer's climax quicker. Her pussy clenched, clamping down even further on the Slayer's cock. Releasing her breasts, the Slayer moved one hand to her ass where he slapped them. In an obvious response, they jiggled and rippled to the impacts.

"Y-Yeah," he grunted out, voice baritone, as he felt close, "Me too."

The other hand came up to the Baroness's head, gripping onto one of her black horns. She screamed out in ecstasy, her pussy releasing a torrent of cum that drenched and lubricated his cock.

"FLYNN!" the Baroness screamed out into the air, uncaring of whoever heard her.

"BATHORY!" the Slayer screamed back in response, thrusting one final time and driving his cock deeper into her womb to fire off its load. Weeks of pent-up semen slammed into her inner walls and painted it dirty white, the Baroness's womb happily accepting the gift from the Slayer's reproductive organ.

Coming down from their high, they fell onto the ground beneath them. The Slayer landed on his bare back with the Baroness falling on top of him, her large breasts squished against his own broad chest. The two were breathing heavily, their breaths blowing into the other's face. Bathory's eyelids drooped as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Before sleep could completely overtake her, Flynn whispered into her ear.

"I love you."

* * *

[Present Day Topmost Floor of the Manse]

"Love? You have a strange way of showing it, my Mate, and I myself having a strange way of coming to terms with it," Bathory spoke to herself as she finished reliving that moment. Looking out, she could see that it was only a few minutes since she had sent her youngest daughter away. She stood from her chair and made her way out the room.

Walking down the halls of the top floor and reaching the wide staircase (she had this made in the event there were parties and gatherings to be held here, much to her Mate's annoyance), Bathory went down the spiraling flight of stairs, passing through various portraits. As she had reached the first floor, she saw one portrait that filled her with pride and another feeling she couldn't quite place yet.

It was a portrait depicting her family. Little Rose was at the forefront, smiling brightly as she held up her pet rabbit (a strange little furball, she noted, not like the vicious beast she had envisioned only her Mate taming) and her older siblings, Sarahviel and Lucius, standing behind her. Sarahviel was observing Lucius ruffle Rose's top hair in brotherly fashion. Behind the three children were Bathory and Flynn. Bathory was lowered in the portrait, leaning into Flynn's arms in a manner she was slowly realizing.

Somehow, slowly but surely, the Baroness of Hell had truly fallen for the Doom Slayer. At some point down the road, she had developed genuine feelings of affection towards what had initially been the very bane of her species and now one of its very prominent figures in strengthening ties between Hell and Heaven along with the other dimensions under their influence be it overt or subvert.

Looking down the remaining steps of the stairs, she saw Rose facing the door waiting for someone. In her hands was her pet rabbit, the furball comfortable in its master's arms.

Her hooves made audible enough noises, making her daughter turn her head to face her. When Rose saw who was coming down the stairs, she quickly faced her mother fully.

"M-Mama!" Rose all but squeaked, the rabbit in her arms mimicking the sound at the sight of the imposing Baroness.

"Rose," she greeted back, eyes softening at the sight of her youngest. For a moment, none of them said anything else, staring at each other. Then, Bathory knelt on one knee and spread her arms out slightly as to welcome her daughter.

"Come to Mother, Daughter." Rose obeyed, all but running at her mother and burying her face into her mother's chest, the rabbit emerging from in between the Baroness's breasts and shaking itself off rather cutely. Bathory hugged her daughter and nuzzled her head to her daughter's head.

"I apologize for raising my voice, child."

"No, Mama, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have-"

"What is done is done, Daughter, and after thinking, I have realized that I truly do love your Father as much as you love him."

"R-Really?! Is that true, Mama?" Rose looked up to her mother, eyes wide in surprise and sparkling with the joy of innocence. Bathory nodded at her daughter's question.

"Let's go find your Father and we shall tell him the good news." Rose beamed at this, hugging her mother more before running for the door.

"C'mon, c'mon, Mama!" Bathory smiled at this, her daughter's enthusiasm was an endearing trait of hers. The Baroness opened the doors of the manse and stepped outside to the rather large fields within their property. Her vision was far superior compared to even the best of other races. As such, she immediately saw Flynn at the gates with Aosoth trailing behind him. Her armor was hastily put on together, suggesting some rather vigorous activities had occurred between them.

She smiled at this. Any other Baroness in her place would've killed their subordinate for sleeping with their Mate but not her. She had welcomed fellow Sisters to lay with her Mate. Aosoth was a frequent one, often mating with Flynn whenever Bathory was occupied. Suddenly she sensed something within her subordinate.

Within her womb was the starting stage of life. In time, she too will birth a child of the Slayer.

"Let us go to your Father, child. It would appear he has something to tell us as well."

Her family was growing, and she was content with that. If she has her love by her side, she is happy.

* * *

**AN:** The filth has ceased for now. I have no regrets, nor do I have any shame in writing this. I swear to God if people, genuinely like this, I may be tempted to write another oneshot.

**EDIT 09-18-2020 A.D. **– Corrected a little spelling error and changed a few descriptions, particularly Aosoth's feet and Doomguy's dick size.

**EDIT 12-17-2020 A.D. **– Changed them again. Also corrected a few grammatical errors.


	2. 02: Ashes 2063 X Last of Us (01)

**_DOOM Mod Oneshots_**

**A/N:** Wassup my readers? I am back with another oneshot for Doom Mods. This time around it is a crossover oneshot involving a good TC (Total Conversion) Mod titled **_Ashes 2063_** and Naughty Dog's utter dumpster fire known as **_The Last of Us Part 2_**. I know, I know **_(I'm late, as the Cloaker says in Payday 2)_**, TLOU2 is an absolute shitshow in terms of plot and message ("Hurr durr revenge bad, Hurr durr revenge no solve problem" yet Abby somehow gets away scot free and Ellie lost pretty much everything) with the gameplay pretty much being the same from the last one. This oneshot will be short so do not expect something long (that's what she said) this time around.

Still, might as well deliver of the _X-Over_ bit of this anthology. I may do more crossovers with many other settings if this oneshot gets popular enough.

If you're wondering when does this oneshot takes place, it takes place right after Episode 01 of Ashes 2063 (I'm taking a bit of a creative liberty here and having the two Scavengers/Scavs/Scavvers of the base TC and the Dead Man Walking expansion/addon as the same guy, mostly because I'm not sure how Dead Man Walking fits in to the base timelines of Ashes 2063 or if they are canonically the same dude to begin with) and just before Joel goes 'golfing' with Abby. Let us see how our Scav fairs in a world straight out of the settings of George Romero and/or 28 Days Later and many more _Viral Infection Post-Apocalypse _settings just after surviving and thriving in a world inspired by Mad Max, Escape from New York, and many other iconic _Collapse of Society Post-Apocalypse_ settings.

So yeah, feel free to enjoy or hate either the oneshot or me (or both).

**[EDIT 12-27-2020 A.D.: **I just checked the **_Ashes Afterglow_** thread on ZDoom. It is confirmed that they are the same guy, as according to _ReformedJoe_, **_Dead Man Walking_** (which is his mod and contribution to **_Ashes 2063_**) takes place before **_Ashes 2063_**.**]**

* * *

**[Oneshot 02: A Scav in a new Post-Apocalypse]**

Date Started: 07-22-2020 A.D.

Date Finished: 07-26-2020 A.D.

Date Edited: 12-27-2020 A.D.

* * *

[Unknown Location]

When he opened his eyes, he expected to be faced with rubble. That fight with that strange mutant with the body fused into its side and the Vulcan in its hands caused a good amount of damage to the room they were fighting in, especially the pillars holding up the roof. What the hell was that, anyway? That was the first time he saw a mutant look as fucked up as that one.

Or was it those two? Fuck it; it is still one body with two heads.

He thought the biggest he would face were the ones with the Master Blasters. Those were relatively easy to deal with. A couple of shotgun blasts, nearly a full mag from a battle rifle, some well-placed shots with the Junker Musket or a few well-timed and thrown pipe bombs brings them down quickly. That one, however? An absolute nightmare to deal with, with its unending supply of bullets and it being rather tanky in nature, being able to shrug off most attacks he sent at it.

Anyways, after the fight, he felt the entire bunker shake. The City had been struck hard during the War and the nuclear storms made it worse, collapsing more buildings with each storm that passes through the area. The pillars broke, one by one in quick succession, before bringing the roof down upon him. By all forms of logic, that should have been the end of the road for him. Whatever Athena, that damn useless computer, wanted, he would not be able to finish it. Some other gullible bastard will have to finish the job he and that other guy three years ago, who he long suspected was Barrett, had started.

So, when he woke up to see healthy trees covered in white dust (snow, he remembered hearing from a few scavengers, travelers and traders who came from the North), he immediately bolted to his feet. Someone had dragged him out of that bunker, out of the City, and into this weird place. It was cold, far colder than the sewers and anything further than a hundred yards was obscured by a storm of snow, the winds howling greatly in his ears. That made things harder, especially when riding on his bike where he can go a hundred miles an hour easily.

_"Shit!"_ he cursed, a thought suddenly coming upon him. _"My bike!" _He looked around. Some bastards, probably the same ones that got him here, separated him from his bike. Bad enough he was in some godforsaken place, but someone had an absolutely brilliant idea to jack his ride?! Getting up to his feet, the Scav began to look around, on high alert and wary of whoever or whatever lurked behind the trees.

A flash glinted off from somewhere nearby, between two trees, making the Scav tense and instinctively reach for his Four-Five-Caliber Ruger Blackhawk revolver. He saw nothing but some metal. Curious but cautious of any hidden danger, the Scav got closer, revolver still in hand in case some ballsy bastard tried to jump him. Pushing away the suspiciously healthy bushes out of the way, the Scav was greeted by the sight of his ride. Relief sets in for him, seeing his trusty Hog still safe. The bags were still in here, too, carrying whatever he had left over since he ventured towards the Spire. A quick check showed that nothing had been taken or tampered with.

It looks like the tank has been filled up as well, judging by the meter as well as a quick look inside, meaning he can go a good distance before needing to fill up again. Quickly looking around, he saw no traces of anyone else. Strange, one would think they would take the bike and leave him to die. Seeing no point in idling around, the Scav gets onto his Hog and starts up the engine. Feeling the satisfying roar of the engine, the Scav rides off in this new land.

Passing through the dust-covered forest, the Scav eventually sees a clearing and brings the bike to a halt. Looking down, he can barely see an old concrete road a good distance down. He can drop down with his bike, but that will rough him up badly especially considering the weight of the cargo in the bags combined with the bike's own weight and his own weight. Looking around, he saw that this storm of white dust barely revealed a slope. Getting closer, he finds that he can glide down with the bike. Assuming he did not hit anything on the way down, that is.

Making his decision, he glides the bike down the slope, angling it occasionally to avoid a nearby obstacle or two.

Upon reaching the bottom, the Scav began to drive forward. As he rode on, he could hear what sounded like gunfire amidst all this howling wind. Call it instinct, but something told the Scav something horrible would happen.

Against better judgment, he followed the noise, riding faster than before. Once he got close enough, he saw a group of folks on horseback fleeing from a rather large group of mutants. He rode faster and brought his modified MAC-10 to bear, the gun's extended stock also acting as a brace for his arms and the suppressor aiding in accuracy and recoil control thanks to its weight and its extension the stubby barrel.

Once he got close, he fired off a burst of Nine-Em-Em into one of the closest mutants and surprising the group on horseback with his sudden appearance.

* * *

She had found him. After all these years, she had found the bastard responsible for her pain, Joel Miller. It was sheer luck that she had stumbled upon him, running from the Infected with another person, his brother Tommy Miller. She and her group arrived under the guise of helping them from the Infected. By sheer stroke of luck, they fell for it. Whether it was desperation or something else, Abby could not care. All that mattered was that this bastard will pay soon once they get back to their safe zone. Right now, the bastard sat behind her as she rode her horse back to base while the other guy rode on another horse.

A few shots were fired, from the bastard and from her group members, each bullet either knocking an Infected down or staggered it long enough to get away from.

"They're getting close!" one called out, riding near her, as he batted another away with his club. They were getting closer to the base, and the horde of Infected was still chasing them relentlessly.

"Hey, what's that sound?" another called out, confusing Abby and her passenger and no doubt the others as well. Before she could ask, she heard it as well.

A motorcycle, one with a rather loud engine, and it was getting closer. Then, from the blizzard, came the motorcycle, running over two or three Infected and bowling over those that were nearby. Worn and battered yet sturdy in frame, the machine clearly has been used for quite some time. The person riding on it, Abby could not tell the gender of as they wore clothing that hid their face and other notable parts well, a hood covered their head completely in addition to a cloth mask and tinted goggles. Any further details would be observed once this person stopped, preferably when they are all safe from the Infected.

The mysterious rider aimed a gun, a silenced sub-machinegun to her surprise, firing accurate bursts into each Infected, cutting their numbers down in droves. The rider was rather skilled with the weapon, removing the depleted magazine with one hand, dropping it into a satchel at the side of the bike in the same motion, and loading a new one to continue the drive-by slaughter of the Infected. Soon enough, the Infected were reduced to a handful which Abby and her group can deal with easily.

Once she saw the barred gates of the repurposed factory, she smiled. They had made it. The gates have been opened, the survivors manning it armed with some weapons to fend back the oncoming horde. The mysterious rider and their motorcycle passed through the gates first, followed by Abby and her group, the gates closing as quickly as they can to shut out the Infected. The Infected threw themselves at the gates, trying to get in.

A thrown flaming cocktail bottle through the bars set a good portion of them aflame, followed up with a few shots from whatever guns the survivors had on their person. The biker had already dismounted their ride, the silenced SMG in hand, and fired short bursts at the Infected, each one popping a head or separating a body part.

This person as clearly experienced, the way they handled themselves and the situation spoke that much to Abby and others that observed the biker.

"Save your bullets!" One of the survivors stationed there, Owen, called out as he and a few others came in with makeshift spears where they were immediately put to good use in safely stabbing each Infected in the head from their spot behind the gate.

The biker stopped, seeing that the other survivors can finish the job, putting away the SMG for the time being.

"Hey," Abby called out to the biker as she dismounted her horse alongside the bastard, "thank for the assist." The biker simply nodded.

As they were, Abby can get a good look on their mysterious ally. The build of the biker revealed that this was a man, a rather athletic one at that. In addition to the hood, the mask and the goggles, the man wore a set of makeshift armor made from a combination of thickened leather and segmented metal plates. His torso shoulders, elbows, arms, thighs, knees, and legs were covered in this patchwork armor. Abby craned her neck to look at the man, noting that he stood a head taller than her or anyone else barring their two 'passengers' who seem equal or so in height to this man. A large backpack was on his person, carrying something heavy judging by the sag it had at the bottom.

"Let's head inside," Owen, once he was sure all the Infected at the gates were dead, said as he led the others back inside their base. The bastard, Joel, grabbed the reins of the horse and led it, following Owen. The biker followed last, staying a good distance behind them. Abby frowned at that.

This person was suspicious of them, probably someone that is used to surviving all alone in the wilds.

As soon as they all entered the building, the others got to close the door. Once it as shut, the chilling blizzards no longer could reach them.

"You guys alright?" one woman in the group asked the two men. Just a little while longer and she will get her chance.

"We're good, thanks," the bastard's brother replied, securing the reins of the horse to one of the poles.

"Thanks again for the assist, man," Manny extended his hand to the biker who simply grunted in response and nodded. "Ooookay… Not a trusting person, are you?" Manny raised an eyebrow, more perplexed than offended by the unnamed biker's response. The biker simply shrugged again.

"You need help with that bike of yours?" another asked, the biker shaking his head as he secured the bike into its new parking spot.

Owen approached Abby, face grim, and spoke. "I need to talk with you," he gestured her to follow him to the adjacent room. Abby had her reservations, looking back at the two men and the unknown biker. She felt the biker's eyes one her, the goggles reflecting everything in front of them and hiding his eyes from everyone. She shivered at that, catching Owen's attention.

"Something wrong?" she waved his concern off as they entered the new room. Following close behind, in their own conversations, was Manny, Joel and Tommy, followed by the others. Once again, the biker kept distance, staying at the rear.

"How long y'all been here?" Tommy asked, curious about this place.

"Since yesterday," Manny answered. One of her members tried to close the door but the biker put a stop to that, acting like a wall, in a spot at the corner of the room where he could see everyone clearly. Owen noticed this as much as Abby.

"Hey now, we're among friends here," Owen tried to extend the olive branch. The biker simply nodded again but this time spoke to them for the first time.

"I'd rather be alert, if you don't mind," the voice was coarse, like someone who had not drank enough water per week.

"What're y'all doing out this way?" Joel asked.

"Just passing through," another of her group replied. "You guys live nearby?"

"We do," Tommy gestured to the window, "a few hours down the hill." Abby could see the biker palming his head in what appears to be annoyance.

"I'm just passing through, buddy," the biker answered when they looked his way.

"Y'all should come back with us. Restock before you head out." Again, Abby can see the biker palming his head. The biker muttered under his breath but what that none caught clearly.

"Appreciate it," Mel said, reaching out her hand for Tommy to shake. "I'm Mel, by the way." Tommy shook it and introduced himself, although Abby already knew who these bastards were.

"Mason," clearly, he was lying. He then gestures to Joel. "This is my brother." Abby can see the biker pinch the bridge of his nose although with the goggles in the way it looked rather goofy.

"Jacob." Joel introduced himself, looking around to meet their eyes. She knew who these two were, however, but kept her mouth shut. She must wait until it is the right time to strike.

"Those are your names?" Abby asked, getting into the conversation.

"Yeah, why?" She stepped a little bit closer. At the corner of her eye, she saw the biker looking at the scene intensely. He was studying everyone in the room.

"I've heard of someone living in these parts. A man by the name of Joel Miller," it was brief, but she saw it. The man's eyes widened and there was a slight flinch in his body. It only lasted for a second before he was calm again.

"No… I can't say I have…"

And that sealed his fate, Abby thought gleefully as she discretely reached for her shotgun in her bag. The rest of her group went silent, either realizing who was in their presence or in on the score.

Looking around, Joel saw their expressions. "Y'all act like you've found him or something." Quietly pulling the weapon out and keeping it out of sight, Abby replied honestly.

"That's 'cause we have," aiming the shotgun at his right knee, Abby had her finger on the trigger. She inwardly savored the expression on Joel Miller's face. Finally, after so long, she will have her vengeance.

But the biker was faster, a rugged, black revolver in hand. Her eyes widened as the biker fired in surprisingly quick succession, and she screamed as she felt her kneecaps blowing out from under her.

* * *

Amateur marks, every single one of them, the Scav noted. The two men unknowingly getting themselves trapped and the butch lady and her posse, both parties made some amateur moves. Lady thought she was discrete, reaching into her bag like that. Still, he cannot shoot too soon or else he will get sloppy. The second she had her shotgun out on the guy, he made his move.

Blackhawk revolver in hand, he fired. Two Four-Five ACP rounds fired, one for each knee, rendering them useless unless she can get them treated fast enough, spilling some blood onto the floor. She screamed as she went down, one hand still firmly gripping the shotgun and its trigger so the moment she fell, she discharged a shell of buckshot into another, blowing out the foot of the man with the girly bun on his head. The others reacted with varying degrees of speed, the quick reactors receiving a bullet to their heads and slow reactors got their chests filled up with Nine-Em-Em Parabellum FMJ rounds, courtesy of his Glock Autoloader Pistol. In less than seven seconds, they were dealt with, a good portion either dead or dying. A schmuck in a blue jacket tried to rush him but all he got for his troubles was a Four-Five to the skull, splattering his brains out into the wall behind him.

The two men these morons tried to jump were surprised by what happened. Idiots, even a mutant could see that these morons were bandits from a hundred yards away and those radheads were nearly blind.

Luckily, he saw through their façade quickly enough. The way they had positioned themselves in the room meant that they aimed to overwhelm these two in numbers. A shame they did not consider the Scav, who had seen ambushes of all kinds in his life stalking the Wastes. Hell, none of them were suspicious at all when he stayed in the far corner. Amateurs, the whole lot of them, nobody will miss them once they are all gone.

"You guys alright?" he asked the two men, both handguns trained on each of them in case they tried anything funny. The bearded man, Jacob, nodded as did his brother, Mason, as they recollected themselves. As soon as he decided they were not a threat, the Scav lowered both pistols to reload them. Once refreshed, the Scav approached the down woman and took her shotgun away. He mockingly waved the weapon in front of her face before throwing it away.

"You sonuvabitch!" she screamed into his face, sending some spittle onto the visors of his goggles which he promptly wiped away. "I had them!"

"Oh yeah? And the fuck did these two numbskulls did to you? Murder your parents or something?" he asked, both out of sarcasm and out of curiosity. She snarled at him, making him chuckle in response. "Holy shit," he started, getting up and beginning to circle her, "I was joking about that." Turning to the two men, he asked the bearded one a question.

"Recognize her in any way?" The bearded one, Jacob if he heard correctly, shook his head.

"Never seen her before today." Looking back to the downed butch, he continued with the interrogation.

"Who're your parents?"

"My father was a doctor," she snarled out, trying to reach for something in her bag. Now that will not do. Firmly as he could, he planted one foot on her arm and the other on her back. "He was trying to get a cure made when _you_," she seethed at Jacob, "killed him." He seemed shocked at her declaration.

A cure? The Scav could not help but snort in amusement.

"Lady," he used the term nicely, getting off her and resume circling her, "have you seen the state of machines these days? Hell, even my bike looks like it'll fall apart sooner or later. Whatever cure your daddy was gonna make, it was no guarantee it'll happen."

"You don't know that!" she shot back, screeching at him, and trying to swipe at his legs. "He was gonna save the world!" He rolled his eyes from behind his goggles.

"Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't," he stated calmly before lowering to a squat he had seen a few Eastern Euros do back at the Wall. "Point is that there's a very high," to visualize, he began to gesture with his hands, "chance it'll fuck itself over. I am not one to have high hopes. I'm just the kind of guy that just wants to get by every damn day."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, stubborn as ever, making him shake his head. This was hopeless, he was not getting anywhere with this one.

He stood up and turned to head for one of the dying men, weapon in hand.

"What're you doing?" Mason asked, alternating between looking at the Scav and looking at the woman.

"Giving this lady a much better motivation for revenge," he aimed his Blackhawk at the man with the girly bun on his head.

"NO!" A trigger was pulled, and the man's brain was splattered across the floor. Another trigger pull sends another round into the chest and another to the gut. Glancing back, he can see that the butch was figuratively frothing at the mouth. Under his mask, he smirked at her.

"See you around, kid." Jacob stepped in his path.

"You're just gonna leave her like this?"

"You want her to get up after what she just said?" Hearing no answer, the Scav walked around Jacob.

Stepping into the corridor outside, the Scav was greeted with the sight of the other bandits in this group just coming in from the garage doors.

"Abby? We heard some gunshots. Is everything al… right…" they trailed off once they saw that the person, they were addressing wasn't someone they were thinking. The MAC was aimed at them already.

"Oh shit!" One of them summed up their collective thoughts as the Scav fired upon them. The Nine-Em-Em rounds made quick work of those that did not duck for cover fast enough, blowing out their brains or making holes in their bodies. Holstering the SMG, the Scav brought out his trusty crowbar and charged. The bandits had their assortment of melee weapons, ranging from useful and deadly like wooden bats or pipes to useless like golf clubs. He dodged under some of their swings and tanked those he could not get away from in time. He struck back harshly as he could, the cold metal doing some nasty damage onto the bandits, especially to the head region.

Occasionally he would use his shiv to shank some of them unexpectedly, either catching them off-guard long enough to be finished off with the crowbar or striking them somewhere that will guarantee their deaths sooner or later. Soon enough, all the bandits in the corridor were dead. Seeing that his bike and the two horses were still there and not tampered with, the Scav quickly heads for his ride. Hearing footstep from behind him, he turns to see Jacob and his brother approaching, the former armed with the shotgun the Scav had thrown across the room he had just came out of. In response, he cuts the reins of the horses lose.

"You boys might want to leave," he said as he opened the garage doors. "I'm gonna start 'cleaning house', if you catch my drift." Jacob shook his head.

"We're coming with you."

"You sure?" A nod from him made the Scav understand their intention. He reached into his backpack and handed Mason one of many spare Glock pistols he had collected in his journeys across the Wastes, handing him four spare mags as well.

"Well, one less bandit group oughta do this world some good." Mason and Jacob nodded at his words. With that, they walked towards the other buildings within the bandits' base to do some 'house cleaning'. He kicks open the door, surprising the bandits within the room.

"Knock-knock," he stated before firing, the MAC's suppressor aiding in muffling the report and keeping his aim steady. None of them stood a chance, the SMG making quick work of them. Nearby, he could hear a shotgun fire off followed by a few pistol shots, letting him know that Jacob and Mason are carrying their weight around as well. Seeing some stairs leading to the upper floors, the Scav continues his little clean up session.

Ascending one floor, he sees that a good number of bandits had wised up to the fact that their numbers are being depleted. None of them had guns and most were clad in thin clothing. No need for bullets, he will just introduce them to a rather touchy friend of his.

Holstering the SMG, he reaches into his backpack and pulls the fearsome weapon out.

"HOLY SHIT!" their horror was understandable at what he had just pulled out of his backpack. It was a rather sadistic weapon, made by some sick fuck somewhere some time ago in the Wastes. The main body is that of an industrial chainsaw but the blade itself has been replaced by a jackhammer. Normally chainsaws would require fuel but apparently the guy behind this thing's existence thought to use solar batteries much like the ones used in the Solar Lanterns many used across the Wastes.

The Pile-Bunker was out to play.

He charged at them, bringing the fearsome weapon forward. Each hammering blow of the Pile-Bunker had enough force to break concrete with ease. Bandits wearing mere clothing were not as hardened as concrete. A few lost their arms, another few lost their legs, some unlucky bastards had their heads split open or had their guts punched out and the rest were bowled over. They tried to run or fend him off, but it was futile in the end.

His own weight combined with the momentum he got and the weight of everything in his backpack made it rather difficulty to stop him.

By the time he was through, he had reached the end of the corridor, with dead bodies or knocked over bandits behind him. Flicking the weapon off and dropping it to the floor, he whipped out his Glock and started executing those that had survived.

He cannot risk any of these morons running free. Except for that one woman, he wants to see how far she can really go. If she dies today, he could not care and if she lives, same thing.

A door to his left opened, entering the corridor was Jacob and Mason. They were shocked at his handiwork.

"Impressed?"

"That's one way to put it," Mason said, trying not to retch at the sight.

"You dealt with all of them on your end?"

"Yeah, we dealt with them." Jacob answered as they headed back to their rides. Stepping out into the storm of snow, the Scav can make out that the fires had gone out and none of the mutants were around anymore.

"Give me a hand with this, will you?" He asked them both as he rushed for the gate. Placing his hands upon one side, he internally winced at how cold the metal was. Is it always this cold wherever here was? He will figure it out later. Jacob and Mason grabbed onto other parts of the gate and slowly but surely opened it wide enough for them to exit on their rides one by one.

They went back into the garage with their rides. "This is where we part ways, I suppose," he said to them who nodded in agreement as they mounted their respective rides. Revving up the engine, the Scav maneuvers the bike until the angle where he can head for the exit straightly was reached.

"Thanks for getting us out of that mess," Jacob said, gratitude in his voice.

"We owe ya," Mason pitched in.

"Stay alive and don't be idiots and I'll consider that a debt repaid," he said to them.

"C'mon, she's gotta be looking for us." Somehow, he knew Mason wasn't talking about the butch he just shot left for (hopefully) dead.

"Looking for someone?"

"Yeah, a friend of ours. We got separated," Jacob said but elaborated no further. The Scav nodded in response. Good, this guy has some good instincts. Saying only a few and not everything, it works in keeping anyone alive.

"Until we meet again, boys," with that, the Scav rides out of the bandit base and onto the dirt roads, leaving the two men behind who spurred their horses to action.

* * *

He rode past the snow-covered vegetation and wildlife, the two surprising him as he rarely encounters pure vegetation or wildlife in the Wastes.

_"I'm a long way from home."_ He said to himself in his head, still riding the road out until he reached an old highway. Some abandoned vehicles littered the place, and it looks like some can still be salvaged. Bringing his ride to a stop, he gets to work. He opened an old pickup truck, seeing that the engine was worn and deactivated but can still be salvaged. With some help, he can remove the parts needed to upgrade his ride.

Some things never change.

After an hour or so of stripping whatever vehicles he could find in good condition of their parts, he returns to his bike. As he got close, he can see that a few mutants have been attracted to the sound of his bike when he arrived at this highway. Taking out the MAC, he fires burst upon burst at them, taking a few of them down easily. Of course, the bolt of the weapon cycling still made audible enough noise that it attracted the rest to him. Holstering the SMG, he brings out his crowbar and starts swatting them away. A few had their heads cave in easily in one blow while the rest needed a few good whacks to the head. One particularly ugly mutant grabbed his arm and bit onto an unarmored part of it. That left him somewhat open to others biting other parts of him. He sneered, ripping himself away from the mutants and giving them all a harsh smack of the crowbar, caving their ugly heads in.

As soon as all were dead, the Scav sat on his bike and opened the sleeve of his bitten arm. To his surprise, he can see some dark veins growing from the bitten spot before they somehow 'burned' away. That is weird, so these mutants act like Gasbags, infecting whatever they could within range. These things do not blow up though, so that's a plus he can see. Not only that, but it appears that whatever is in their bite was not as deadly as the Gasbags' own toxic clouds. Where the toxic clouds can have a grown man hacking his lungs out until he was reduced to nothing more than a nest of spores for more Gasbags to grow, the bites these mutants gave him seemed to be a mild inconvenience at best.

He had a suspicion though. The Wastes, even the settlements that were 'safe' for most of a year, were irradiated thanks to the War that left most of the world as radioactive hellholes. The Geiger counter he kept on his person always can attest to this, always beeping even when he was in settlements like the Wall or Terminus. In this place, however, it did not make a single peep. The Geiger counter was not making any noise whatsoever.

His body had grown accustomed to the radiation, giving a boost of sorts to his immunity system. In most places, he will be fine. It is the heavily radiated areas that he should be careful of. Somehow, he doubts he will find a heavily radioactive area soon. As for what the rads did to his body, they may have had a hand in reversing whatever these bites were supposed to do. He wasn't so sure; he was no scientist.

Still, those bites left some bruises thanks to the thickness of his hooded jacket, while some left punctures in his skin. Taking out his medical bag, he began to treat himself. Years of surviving in the Wastes made him fast in treating his own wounds and bruises, so he had healed himself completely within a minute or two.

Looking to the horizon, he can see that it was getting darker. He will have to find shelter soon. Heading back to his bike, the Scav resumes driving down the roads.

Maybe he will get lucky and find somewhere secure to sleep in.

* * *

**A/N:** And that is another oneshot done. What do you guys think? Love it? Hate it? Let me know in the reviews!

Now, some might be rather confused since there is no Doomguy and I shall clarify once more. This is an anthology series of oneshots of both Doom canon and Doom Mods. This means that minor gameplay mods like **_Naku-Naru_** and **_Highway Acceleroid Booster _**can have a oneshot as well and major total conversions such as **_Hedon_** and **_The Adventures of Square_** can also have oneshots of their own. And since this has an _X-Over_ tag, that means countless crossover potential.

I could crossover **_Super Smash Brothers_** with **_Samsara_**, **_Quake Champions: DOOM Edition_** and **_Fate Grand Order_**, and even a three-way crossover between **_Tomb Raider_**, **_Uncharted_**, and **_Temple of the Lizardmen_** and so much more! The possibilities are literally endless. Not just with crossovers but also genre. I can have something serious, then something erotic, then something lighthearted, and then finish off with a shitpost because the endless potential crossovers both Doom Canon and Doom Mod settings have.

Now I've plans for the next oneshot already. This one involves the latest big project from SgtMkIV, **_VietDOOM_**, and the **_Harry Potter_** books. Random? Yes. Doesn't really connect thematically? Hell yes. Something ultimately entertaining to read in some way or form? **_FUCK YES!_**

See you all on the flip side!

\- EnriksD8

**[EDIT 12-27-2020 A.D.:** I've changed my mind on what the potential third oneshot will be. **_DOOM Incarnate_** plus **_Mad Father_**. Prepare for 1980's BJ Blazkowics to cause some mayhem in the Drevis Manor!**]**


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